All That Mattered
by storylover18
Summary: It wasn't the summer he planned but he was with his friends and that was all that mattered...a little one-shot that's rather fluffy in nature - focused around a sick Harry. Takes places at the beginning of Half-Blood Prince. Enjoy!


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Hey everyone =) So I just finished reading the **_**Harry Potter**_** series this afternoon and I am so disappointed it's over…I actually cried! But on the up side…it gave me the motivation to write this little one-shot. Takes place during the summer before **_**Half Blood Prince**_** and I've changed a bit of what happens in the beginning of the book as you'll see but I still think it works. I hope you enjoy! **

Harry creaked upwards and realized all too soon that that had been a mistake. His head pounded in complaint and his sinuses felt like they were bound to explode at any moment. Not daring to lie down again for fear of not being able to get back up, Harry looked out the window and saw that the day matched how he was feeling; the sky was dark with clouds and he could already see the first drops of rain splattering on the pavement. Harry forced his feet to the ground and stood up, swaying dangerously.

As much as he wished to go back to sleep, he knew that his aunt and uncle would not let him and would eventually seek him out to finish his insanely long chore list. Rather than give them the opportunity to yell, Harry dressed slowly and trudged downstairs. No one said anything to Harry during a breakfast that was eaten unwillingly; this was not unusual and while this normally made Harry feel invisible, today he welcomed the silence.

Forcing down as much as he could muster, Harry got up without a word and went to the fridge to look at the list Aunt Petunia had posted for him. The first item on it was _Weed Front Gardens_ and Harry knew that a little rain would not change the fact that Aunt Petunia wanted the gardens weeded and so, with a huge sigh that went unnoticed (or ignored), Harry went out front and bent down in the dirt and began pulling weeds.

Unfortunately for him, the front gardens were on the large side and the rain had begun to fall harder. It didn't take long for Harry to be covered in mud, rain and sweat and all Harry wanted to do was be in bed, sleeping off his awful headache.

"Harry, what are you doing out here in this weather?"

A voice from the front walk made Harry forget the weeds he had been battling out of the ground. He turned around in surprise and stumbled to his feet, staring in surprise at Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, wishing now that he looked - and felt - better. Dumbledore was sure to see that he was under the weather and Harry didn't want him to make a fuss; it would be better for all involved, Harry in particular, if nobody knew how he felt and he was sure he would be fine a few days time.

"Professor, what are you doing here?" Harry asked as Dumbledore, wearing dark green robes and carrying a huge umbrella, strode up the walk so that he was sheltered under the overhang.

"I came to speak with you, of course." Dumbledore shook out the umbrella and Harry moved out of the rain, joining him under the overhang.

"About what, Sir?"

"About Sirius' Will, Harry."

Harry's heart sank a little bit when Dumbledore mentioned Sirius; he had been so preoccupied with how lousy he felt that he had not yet remembered that morning that his godfather was dead.

"It seems," Dumbledore continued, unaware of Harry's thoughts. "that Sirius left you everything he owned but I can see that you are in no fit state to discuss such matters today."

Harry had been wondering how long it would be before Dumbledore noted his horrid appearance and what it must be saying to how he felt.

"Why are you not in bed, Harry?"

Harry shrugged.

"Have to get my chores done."

He knew it was a weak excuse and Dumbledore seemed to agree.

"Well, the chores will have to wait. Go inside, take a shower and get into bed. I will return in a few days time and we can discuss Sirius then."

"But my aunt - " Harry began but Dumbledore put up a hand, stopping Harry mid-sentence.

"I will speak with Petunia. Now go." Dumbledore's voice was firm but gentle and Harry felt more than happy to oblige. Harry entered the house and started up the stairs, tracking in mud and not caring. The only thing that was on his mind now was his bed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice stopped him in his tracks and he turned to see his prissy aunt scurrying down the hallway from the kitchen.

"And who are you?" she demanded of Dumbledore, who smiled pleasantly at her and nodded at Harry, who continued his climb up the stairs.

"I am Albus Dumbledore." he said curtly. "But I believe you knew that, Petunia."

"Well, I never - " Aunt Petunia sputtered, staring at Dumbledore's outstretched hand before he withdrew it, still smiling.

"I have come to speak with Harry about his godfather."

"What about him?" Aunt Petunia's voice was cold and stiff.

"He has passed on and he has left all his possessions in Harry's care." Dumbledore told her.

"What sort of possessions? I don't want any of that magic junk in my house, thank you very much."

Again, Dumbledore smiled pleasantly.

"He has left everything he owns." he repeated. "His house and all his possessions, including his house elf."

"His _what_?" Aunt Petunia sounded horrified and Harry, who was listening at the top of the stairs, wondered what she would say if she actually ever met Kreacher.

"But that is not what I wish to discuss with you, Petunia." Dumbledore ignored Petunia's outcry.

"Surely you could've seen that Harry is ill. He should not have been out in the rain, pruning the gardens."

"Well, Mr. - "

"Professor, actually."

"Well, Professor Dumbledore, I do not think it's your place to be telling me what Harry can and can't be doing. He's not at school and you have no authority over him right now."

"Very true, he is not at school and I do not have authority over him right now but I must insist that you allow Harry to rest for a few days and I myself will see to it that his chore list gets done. I assume that is agreeable?"

"Well…I suppose…but - " Aunt Petunia sputtered.

"Very well. Harry will rest until he is better and I will ensure your housework is completed. Good day."

With that, Dumbledore opened the front door and retreated down the walkway of Number Four, Privet Drive.

Aunt Petunia stared in shock as Dumbledore left and then closed the door. Harry, by this time, had hightailed it out of the staircase and, following Dumbledore's instructions, had washed up and crawled gratefully back into his bed.

-HARRY POTTER-

When Harry awoke, he was surprised to see Aunt Petunia in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed. He sat up quickly, shoving his glasses on and feeling very uncomfortable at the sight of his aunt in the room.

"How do you feel?" Aunt Petunia asked, sounding almost gentle.

"I…I'm okay." Harry muttered. "What are you doing here?"

He hadn't meant to sound blunt but there was really no other way to put it out there.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Aunt Petunia laughed lightly as though she always came and checked on him when he was ill.

"Since when do you care about how I feel?" he asked flatly.

"Silly boy." Aunt Petunia clicked her tongue in a mothering way that annoyed Harry. "How does some soup sound?"

She motioned to Harry's desk and Harry looked over to see a spread of hot soup, a couple slices of bread and some tea before looking back to Aunt Petunia.

"I know what you're doing." Harry said, anger building up inside of him.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

His name sounded strange coming from Aunt Petunia; she always seemed to address Harry as 'You'.

"I know what you're doing. You think that if you try and take care of me maybe I'll let you have some of Sirius' money. I know Dumbledore told you that he left me everything. Well, it won't work."

Aunt Petunia looked baffled at Harry's outburst even though he was right. After a moment, she stood up angrily.

"Fine then, you ungrateful boy. You're just like your father: stubborn and arrogant."

Aunt Petunia grabbed the soup spread and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her and Harry breathed a sigh of relief at her absence. Lying down again, he felt his anger and grief mix into an ugly feeling that settled in his stomach and added to his headache.

Wishing he could use magic, Harry closed his eyes and tried to will away the discomfort. He wasn't sure if he fell totally asleep but he was jolted back into the tiny bedroom with a loud _crack_. Again, he shot upright, this time with his wand clutched in his hand.

"Who's there?" he demanded, fumbling for his glasses.

"It is I, Harry Potter. It is Dobby."

"Dobby, what are you doing here?" Harry found his glasses and lowered his wand as the house elf climbed up onto his bed.

"Professor Dumbledore sent me. He told Dobby that I was to finish all of Harry Potter's chores and then take Harry Potter to Ron's house. He said that that would help Harry Potter greatly."

Harry smiled at the beaming house elf.

"He's right, Dobby. It would help me."

The elf smiled ever more widely.

"What can Dobby do first?" he asked.

"There's a list on the fridge downstairs. Just try not to let my aunt see you." Harry said, leaning back against the wall. He watched as Dobby scurried out of the room and he fell back asleep, listening for a shriek that would tell him if Dobby was seen by his aunt.

-HARRY POTTER-

Dobby woke Harry up again a few hours later.

"Harry Potter, it is time to wake up." The house elf shook Harry's shoulder and Harry opened his eyes reluctantly.

"Dobby had done everything, Harry Potter. And the old lady knows that you are leaving. She seemed happy that Harry Potter is going to go and Dobby told her that she should be honoured to have Harry Potter in her house."

Harry sat up, bleary eyed and feeling worse than ever, but managed a smile at Dobby's words.

"Is Harry Potter ready to go?" Dobby asked, looking closely at Harry. Although Harry was dreading trying Apparition for the first time, he nodded.

"My trunk - " Harry started.

"-is packed and already at Ron Weasley's house." Dobby finished Harry's sentence.

"Do they Weasleys know I'm coming, Dobby?" Harry asked, standing up slowly.

"Professor Dumbledore sent them an owl with a letter like the one I gave the old lady downstairs. Is Harry Potter ready to go?"

Harry nodded and he felt Dobby's tiny hand grab hold of his pyjama pants and they spun into darkness.

Fighting to regain his balance, Harry felt immensely sick at the feeling of Apparition. Apparently Mrs. Weasley had been expecting this and she had something ready for Harry to retch into. Mrs. Weasley cleaned up the mess with a flick of her wand and then looked at Harry and gave him a hug.

"You poor dear." she said, pulling away. "Dumbledore told us what had happened. Come on now, up to bed."

Feeling more loved and cared for than he ever had, Harry let Mrs. Weasley lead Harry upstairs into Ron's attic bedroom and settled him in his make-shift bed.

"You rest, Harry. If you need anything, just call."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said, already drifting into sleep as she pulled the quilt up around his body.

When Harry awoke, he saw it was dark outside. Ron was snoring in his bed and Harry checked his watch and saw that it was just past midnight. He sat up hesitantly and was pleasantly surprised to discover that his sinuses were allowing him to breathe a little easier and his head didn't seem to be as sore. His stomach growled and Harry debated going down into the kitchen to try and find something to eat.

After deciding that he would not get any more rest until he had eaten, Harry crept down the stairs, relieved to see light coming from the kitchen. As he descended the last of the steps, he saw Hermione and Ginny playing a card game at the long table.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, noticing him for the first time. She put down her cards and ran to him, giving him a hug.

"Come, sit down." Ginny led Harry to a chair.

"How are you?" Hermione asked, smiling. "Mrs. Weasley told us you were ill. That's why you came a few days early."

"Are you hungry?" Ginny asked, not giving Harry time to answer Hermione, and Harry nodded. As she went to fill a bowl with Mrs. Weasley's chicken soup, Hermione looked sceptically at Harry and he squirmed under her gaze.

"How do you feel?" Hermione asked as Ginny placed a steaming bowl of soup down in front of Harry. She let her hand rest on Harry's shoulder and Harry didn't object.

"I'm better than earlier." Harry said as he blew at the steaming soup on his spoon.

"Mrs. Weasley told us that you were really sick when you came."

Harry nodded.

"How long have you been here?" he asked Hermione, slurping another steaming spoonful of soup.

"I got here three days ago."

"And did you say that I came a few days early?" Harry sounded confused as he asked. He had not known of any plans to bring him to The Burrow at any point during the summer.

"Yes. Professor Dumbledore was going to speak with you today and he said that you would be arriving in two days time." Ginny answered from behind Harry.

"How come he didn't tell me?" Harry demanded and Hermione shrugged.

"You know Dumbledore; he'll have his reasons."

Although Harry knew she was right, it didn't help relieve the annoyed feeling that had formed. Suddenly full, he pushed away the bowl.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" Hermione asked, noting that Harry had taken a full three bites of soup. Harry nodded, feeling that he had overeaten. Ginny's hand moved from Harry's shoulder to his cheek and her hand felt nice and cool against Harry's flushed face.

"You're pretty warm." Ginny said. "You should go back to bed."

Hermione stood up and Ginny helped Harry up, who was regretting his midnight supper more with each passing minute. Together, the girls got him to Ron's room and settled into bed. As a precautionary measure, they left him with a basin, a bell and instructions to call if he was sick or needed anything.

-HARRY POTTER-

From Harry's perspective, it seemed that time was going by either really slowly or really quickly. It was difficult to say because all he seemed to be doing was falling asleep, waking up to find someone fussing over him, eating something, sometimes keeping it down, and falling asleep again within an hour. He had no idea how long this cycle kept up or how many time it repeated itself but he was soon ready for it to be over.

He had just awoken for what felt like the millionth time to him but was, in reality, his fifth awakening the day after he arrived at The Burrow. He sat up and saw Hermione and Ron in the room; Ron on his bed reading a book on Quidditch and Hermione was nestled at the foot of his bed, reading an ancient looking book with no title.

"Hey." Harry greeted them.

"'Morning." Ron grinned at him and put his book down.

"How do you feel?" Hermione greeted him and Harry could remember enough to know that she was becoming accustomed to greeting him like this.

"I feel a little better. I think the soup's finally making a difference." Harry said and Hermione smiled encouragingly.

"That's good. Do you want some more?" she asked and Harry quickly shook his head, not wanting to push his luck.

"What are you reading?" he asked, just to get her mind off of his diet.

"Oh, it's this great book on magic in the middle ages. It's fascinating, really."

"Really." Ron added for emphasis, earning himself a smack on the arm with the heavy book.

"Oi! What was that for?" he asked, rubbing his arm. Hermione ignored this and opened her book again. Ron looked at Harry.

"I take such abuse."

Harry grinned as Hermione hit Ron again and then she tuned back to Harry.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

"Some crackers would be okay." Harry answered, knowing that he had to start eating again at some point.

"I'll get them." Ron said quickly, taking the chance to get away from Hermione and her abusive book. Ron left and returned after a few minutes with some crackers and a bottle of juice.

"Mum'll be up in a few minutes. She wants to check on you." Ron informed Harry as Harry took a miniscule bite of cracker. A few moments later, Mrs. Weasley appeared just in time to see Harry throw up his sparse meal of crackers and juice.

-HARRY POTTER-

It took nearly five days but Harry finally started getting better.

"Thank Merlin." Mrs. Weasley said after Harry's temperature had been normal for an entire day and he had managed to keep down three full meals.

"I was getting worried. I thought I might have to take you to St. Mungo's and have you looked at, Harry."

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said with a smile. "Thank you, though, for looking after me."

"Oh, it was my pleasure, dear. You know that you're like a son to me."

Mrs. Weasley squeezed Harry around the shoulders before going off to check the laundry.

Now that he was now well, Harry was excited to enjoy all that The Burrow had to offer: Quidditch, campfires with Hermione and Ron, chasing after the garden gnomes with Fred and George and the loud mealtimes that he loved most of all. He knew from Mr. Weasley that Dumbledore was going to come by at some point as well to discuss with him Sirius' Will.

However, the only thing Harry found himself doing over the next few days was running from room to room, delivering crackers and bowls of soup. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were absolutely miserable and Harry felt bad for their suffering so he tried to make up for it by answering every bell that rang. It wasn't the summer he had planned on but he was with his friends and that was all that mattered.

**Reviews are always appreciated…**


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